


Holiday Cookies

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Secret Santa Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 04:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17135039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: They both needed a small respite in the hectic rush of festival preparations and holiday events.





	Holiday Cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyEnterprize](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyEnterprize/gifts).



In the festive throes of the holiday season, the Citadel rose like a welcoming beacon against the drab greys and slate of the city around it. It sparkled in the morning light, the winter rains and threat of sleet in the dark clouds throwing it into a bright glory for the dawn. At night, its light blotted out the stars above, shining brighter than any festive tree when the the temperature dipped enough to let the soft snows start to fall around it. The silence expected of such a vision of the kingdom at peace muted the traffic and lively cacophony around it; the festive flare and anticipated blanketed by the welcoming shadows stretching from the Citadel towers. 

Ignis had grown up with that image. He had spent years on the approach to the Citadel plazas, the stern, severe reminder of Lucian elegance softened by the winter lights and festive moods. He had followed his uncle, day after day, in through the side doors meant for staff— still decorated for the season by smiling aides and cooks as they slipped in through the morning chaos to take their stations. 

He remembered the first year he had seen the rise of the glittering lights strung across avenue and approach and from lamppost to sign from the warmth of Noctis’ quiet apartment. From above, the streets looked like spiders’ webs made of garlands and strings of heavy duty lights, the baubles carefully selected and crafted in the royal colours caught in the weave of it all. Wreaths appeared at blots of coloured lights, and balconies around them were lined with whatever decorations were popular that year. But nothing compared to the lights of the Citadel rising above the night-dimmed city. 

“It’s beautiful, this year.” He mused, a mug in hand as he ignored promise of approaching festivals flashed across every screen and sign. The news feeds buzzing with speculation of the royal attire and the guest list for the next event. Countdowns glared out from advertisements and news stations, pulsing with the headaches that had been building for the past several days. The new year was fast approaching, and the last of the royal events were still being pieces together around them in a strict defiance of the idea that they had sorted out all the final details sometime back in summer. “The lights.”

“You say that every year, Specs.”

The rhythmic chopping from the kitchen was almost a balm on the nerves still frazzled by the weeks’ work they had been caught up in. Long nights spent at the Citadel studies in preparation for the events the news was now obsessed with. The steady pace, unimpeded, careful, calmed Ignis’ nerves almost as much as the hot chocolate warming his hands. 

Outside, the city carried on. 

“And every year, they are wonderful.” He spared a glance at the kitchen, where Noctis worked. Where Noctis had spent the better part of an hour simply cutting slices away from nearly frozen dough. Little colourful discs that would be cookies spread out on baking trays while the oven warmed. “How are they coming?”

“They’re… Coming. I think.”

“Set the timer for seven minutes at a time.”

“I know, I read the recipe.”

“Then a holiday miracle has already happened,” Ignis abandoned his view of the city lights in favour of inspecting the cookies Noctis had insisted on making without his help. 

Noctis glared at his approach, knife poised above the next disk to be cut from the roll of colourful dough. “Out.”

“I’m only refreshing my drink.” Ignis smiled in the face of Noctis’ ire, offering his mug for examination. 

There was a moment of hesitation, as Noctis debated the chances of Ignis’ interference in his project. The Prince relented with a nod and Ignis stole a glance at the colourful dough already set out in a layer by the oven. The pinwheel design to the cookies was rudimentary at best, the colour as even as could be given Noctis’ own meticulous nature. Each cookie was exact in its thickness, each one set an even distance from the other. 

But it was the imperfections that Ignis was looking for. The telltale signs of Noctis’ inexperience and impatience. The colour bled out into the base as the dough hadn’t fully set before it was rolled together. The first few attempts uneven and inconsistent. There were pieces here and there, little marks and dents, impressions and marks of indecision, that caught Ignis eye as he refreshed the chocolate in his mug. 

He left the kitchen with a kiss to Noctis’ cheek. “The cookies look good.”

“You’re not supposed to be peeking.”

“In all fairness, Noct, the kitchen is rather open.”

Noctis shooed him away with a wave of the knife, attention returned to the more domestic task at hand. In a study in the shining depths of the Citadel, there was a laptop with an unfinished speech on it, notes scattered across an antique desk and a tablet left abandoned to the stifling silence of polished stone and the steady treat of attending guards in the dark. Ignis knew that the threat of the deadline should weigh on him more— that the speeches still needed the final touches, that there were arrangements that Noctis still needed to be briefed on. 

But a distraction had been in order. 

They were sick of the changing guest lists, the edits and suggestions offered by the Council, the fittings and adjustments to suits and uniforms. They were tired of the quiet within the shining Citadel halls, where the festive reminders were nearly stripped away in the severity of pressing duty and decorum. 

The cookies had been Ignis’ idea. Noctis’ takeover of the task had been his own doing. 

Back at the window, to watch the flow of traffic and life pulsing through the lit streets, Ignis mused on the half-finished work that would be waiting for them in the morning. The deadline hadn’t shifted with their enforced weekend, and the pressure would still be there once the morning came. The work behind the festivals would remain, waiting for their attention, and Ignis had no doubt that Noctis would continue to rise to the occasion.

He could picture it. He could see Noctis standing at his father’s side, the aloof demeanour of his royal persona firmly in place among the Lucian nobility and royal duties. He could see Noctis well enough as he was, smiling with friends, conquering tasks like making cookies in their brief moments of peace. And he smiled at the thought of Noctis— his Noct— stepping up to take his place at his father’s side, proud and controlled, and at ease in his role. 

But until then— until the dawn was heralded in with a blazing glow across the grey, Lucian capital— Ignis could stand to watch the lights and passing life below the seemingly secluded apartment. Half of his attention on the kitchen as he considered the warmth flowing through the little home Noctis had carved for himself in the shadow of his family. 

“Did you set the timer?”

The oven closed and the rhythmic cutting returned. And he wondered at the moment of peace stolen from the parade of festivals and events and charitable gatherings still looming. 

“Shit.”

He thought of Noctis’ smile when he suggested they step away from the work. When he suggested this quiet project, where neither of them would need to sound clever or poised, or appear as anything other than what they were. 

“Set it to five minutes, darling.”

“Yeah, yeah. Got it, Specs.”

The morning would bring with it the laundry list of events and planning and details that had been overlooked. But the night stretched on with the glittering city before them, and the vanilla of sugar cookies warming through the apartment peace. Outside, in the dazzling city lights and the shadow of the Citadel, the world marched on; news feeds and excited citizens kept the city buzzing for the holidays, the stars continued to shine out above the lights and Wall and the shimmer of the streets below. But inside, Ignis could enjoy the quiet and stillness and the silence of his own little haven.


End file.
